by J. L. Beck
“I think you met that challenge.” He pulls into a parking spot and turns off the engine.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is he seriously trying to pin this all on me? Try as he might, the last thing I came all the way out here to do is bang my professor. Maybe he should take a good look at the other person sitting in this Beemer. I pull open the door and step outside.
He follows suit, keeping pace with me as we walk toward the elevator. “After you, gorgeous.” He gestures toward the elevator doors. They slowly open.
“You don’t have to walk me to my door. I’ll be fine.” I step to the back of the elevator and push the button for floor twelve.
“Yeah, I know you’ll be fine. You’re not about to enter the witness protection program. I want to walk you to your door. You never know what lurks in the darkness.”
Chills sweep through my body. The bell chimes and the elevator doors open. I scurry out of the small space, Nick right on my heels. My breathing rate increases three-fold, to the point where I’m almost losing my breath. “Thanks for the ride. I’m late.” Truth be told, I have nothing planned other than getting away from Nick as fast as I can. I slide my key in the door and open it with one swift move.
“Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.” Nick slides his hands in his pockets and stares at me with that drop-your-panties smile.
I stop dead in my tracks. “What did you say?”
He flashes a sexy half smile. “Shakespeare.”
All rational thought drains from my body, breaking the barrier from my brain to the rest of my body. I lunge at Nick, lips first, slamming my completely soaked body against him. He wraps his arms around me and guides me through the doorway, his impressive length growing against me. I kick the door shut as soon as our bodies clear the threshold.
He pulls away, breathing so heavy he’s just about panting. “Jes…” He locks eyes with me, passion burns through our cores. “Fuck it.” He grabs my hips and hikes my skirt up to the top of my black lace panties, dragging his fingers along my skin.
The sensation sends shockwaves skyrocketing through my core. Why did I think a one-night stand with Nick would suffice? I slam my lips into his and pull at his suit pants, desperate for the pleasure only he can provide. Finally, they give. I shove my hand down and take hold of everything I desire. Nick hooks a finger onto each side of my panties and eases them down, grazing my clit with his thumb on the way. I tremble, electric shocks flowing through my core.
He wraps his arms around my thighs and lifts me up. I grab hold of his neck, balancing myself as he shoves his cock inside me. Groans of pleasure fill the small apartment. He backs me against the wall and thrusts hard. I wrap my legs around him, taking him in deep. His cock fills me completely, warm juices flowing.
My heart thrashes against my chest. He holds me up with one hand and places his other palm against the wall, thrusting harder inside me. The passion builds inside, about to explode. I weave my fingers through his hair, moaning loud enough for the rest of the world to hear. A rush of pleasure hits my core and I yell out something unrecognizable. He lets out a loud moan and we both release our pleasure in unison.
I rest my head on his shoulder, catching my breath. “I thought you weren’t an up-against-the-door kind of guy.” I release my legs from his waist.
“I didn’t say anything about walls.” He slowly eases out of me, flinching as the friction sends more sparks through our sensitive cores. He sets me on my feet.
I adjust my skirt, but leave my panties on the floor. Blood flows from my loins back to the rest of my body. The reality of the situation hits me like a speeding bus. Dammit, we didn’t use a condom. Okay, so I’m on the pill, but there’s more to worry about. For starters, why do I become so irresponsible when I’m with Nick?
“Nick…”
“Yeah, I know.” He buttons his pants and runs a hand through his perfectly messy hair.
“What now?” I finally find a guy I want to spend more than an hour with, who’s just about everything I’m looking for, and I can’t have him? Maybe the curse of the Kennedys moved to my family.
He presses his forehead against mine. “I can’t stay away from you.” He brushes his lips over mine. “And there’s no way in hell I can teach while you’re sitting in the front row, nibbling on that pen, knowing you’re not mine.”
I let out a deep breath. “Nick, it’s too dangerous for both of us.”
“I don’t care, you’re worth it.” He presses his lips against mine, putting all the passion he feels into this one amazing kiss.
My mind was made up the second I got into his car. I want him, no matter what happens. “No one could ever find out.”
He holds my cheeks with both hands and kisses me soft. “No one will.” He feathers his fingers down and slowly unties my halter blouse.
Time for round two.
The complications keep on finding their way to me. The universe realizes what I’m doing is wrong and tries to give me a subtle hint to end it. Not going to happen. I’m not the kind of girl that just gives up. If I want something, I go for it. End of story. Finding out the Dean is my new advisor since Dr. Richards is out is the icing on the cake. I trek down the hallway to Dean Chapman’s office, which just happens to be two doors down from Nick’s.
Heavy footsteps sound behind me, gaining in intensity with every second. A chill sweeps through me. The noise gets louder, like someone’s right on my tail. I move to the side of the hallway to allow whomever it is to pass me and continue on their journey.
A man sweeps by, not even giving me a second glance. I scan the familiar figure, dark wavy hair, chiseled jawline, athletic build. I suck in a deep breath and freeze in the hallway. What is Michael Santucci doing in Philadelphia?
3
Nick O’Halloran
Folding the reading glasses, I drop them beside the keyboard and bury my face in my hands. Legal terms have never been so sexy in my twisted mind. I start searching a precedent case and end up surfing a romantic getaway website. I’d better stop pretending I’m getting any work done today. Mind’s too scattered. I pull the chair back and watch people huddling against the freezing November drizzle as they hurry past my office window. I should be writing that overdue journal article, not daydreaming about Jessie Russo, as I’ve been doing lately. So much for busting my ass to get that tenure track position.
Teaching used to be when I was most focused. Not this semester. X-rated images of me and Jessie sneak up at the oddest moments. I space out in the middle of a sentence, especially during Administrative Law. The class vanishes, substituted by Jessie’s trembling thighs or tempting breasts. Instead of a student’s question, I hear Jessie’s moans. It’s pathetic.
I’ve never been happier though. I haven’t fallen for a woman like this in… hell, ever. It’s more than just the forbidden element, although that is exciting. No. Jessie makes me laugh with the same ease she pulls me into a heated discussion. She’s got sass and wit, spunk and heart. And have I mentioned sex? We have steamy hot, I-want-you-now sex five minutes after we enter a room, the same way we spend hours learning each other’s bodies and discovering what makes the other moan and curl toes.
To think I almost ruined everything still gives me the chills. When we realized we couldn’t stay away from each other, I confessed to Jessie I knew her family. Boy was she mad! We were having breakfast in her apartment, when I held her hand across the table. She put the newspaper down to smile at me and I spurted it out before I got cold feet, “When I was young, I met Joey Russo a few times at my dad’s office. He was a bookkeeper or accountant, not sure. My mom was fond of him,” I smiled at the memories.
“He’s a good man,” she whispered still not cluing in where I was going with that.
I nodded. “I thought so, too. When I moved east to go to college, cutting all ties with my family, I didn’t hear about him until a scandal hit national media and images of spectacled Joey Russo were splashed everywhere as he testifie
d to John Santucci’s involvement in a long-lasting money laundry scheme.”
All hell broke loose. I ducked to avoid the newspaper thrown at me as Jessie spat out, “What the hell, Nick? You’re a Santucci? Why didn’t you say something before?”
Irish mixed in with Italian makes for an explosive temperament and I shouted back, “When exactly? Yesterday when I drove you home under that pouring rain?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe some time during the night, in-between the half-a-dozen times you fucked me?”
“Yeah, that would’ve made for great pillow talk.” A look into her hurtful brown eyes deflated my anger like a cheap balloon. “Hey, I’m sorry I was a jerk. You’re right. In my defense, my head was occupied with sinful thoughts last night.” Unfolding from the chair, I knelt by her side. She was still fuming, so I tried a secret weapon that worked the night before. “I am sorry. What can I say? The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. And I’m a fool for you, Jessie Russo.”
Jessie’s lips curved up in a reluctant smile as she shook her head and pinned me down with her intense stare. “Not fair. Citing The Bard won’t always get you out of messes, you know.”
I’m glad we put that behind us. Yet guilt lurks in my conscience. To be with Jessie, I would compromise my career in a heartbeat, but do I have the right to be selfish and jeopardize her future one? It doesn’t seem right and it’s been gnawing at me.
The doorknob clicking open startles me. I swing the chair around to see who’s there and my world tilts as blood rushes to my face. I bark, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Hello to you, as well, little bro.” Five years my senior, Michael chuckles and his smug expression pours gasoline over the fire.
Muscles in my neck bundle up. “You should’ve called instead of popping up. How many times do I need to repeat myself? I don’t want you and your shit in my life.” Hands balled on hips, I snarl when I stand up to face Michael. “The last thing I want is for people to connect me with my good-for-nothing brother or sleazy father.
“Oh, come on, Nicky. We’re family. We look out for each other. That’s what families do.”
“Like when mom passed, you mean? You were never there for me,” I snap back to cover the painful sting that smarts my chest. After all these years, Michael’s lack of support still cuts. “You’ve no idea what family means.”
Michael’s expression darkens and for a moment he resembles a decent human being. Then, it’s gone. Smirk back in place, he shrugs, “Family means sticking together no matter what. You bailed on us, not the other way around.”
“Excuse me if I didn’t dream of growing up to be a thug.”
“Dad’s a politician.”
“Same difference.”
Michael’s practiced smile is as bad as the smug one. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the media.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not fake news just because you don’t like it. Give reporters some credit.”
“So sorry you feel that way because I came here to bring you back with me to California.”
I laugh out loud at his outrageous remark. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“Nope. Dad wants you to go back.”
“Has he been living under a rock for the past ten years? I’m not going back. You guys must get that through your thick skulls.”
“I feared that’d be your response.”
“So why bother asking?”
“Because Dad asked me to,” he replies, quite matter-of-factly.
“And you do whatever Dad tells you to do, no matter what,” I retort, not really questioning him. I know that’s how he operates.
A shadow crosses Michael’s eyes again and for a flitting moment I think I see my childhood best buddy. Then it’s gone and I’m left with slimy adult Michael. “Funny you act all high-and-mighty, when your ceiling is made of the thinnest glass. Not so smart for a smart-ass like yourself, don’t you think?” Michael scoffs, before adding, “Higher education is overrated, if you ask me.”
“What would you know about that? You spent your time at Columbia too drunk or too high to learn a damn thing.”
If I didn’t know my brother, I’d say I hit a nerve, but again the moment passes as quickly as it comes and the amoral man I learned to despise stands before me. He reaches inside his made-to-order Italian suit producing a thick manila envelope. Michael gloats, “Glass ceiling and all that, remember? Like I said, not a smart move bragging about morals when you have none.”
Ignoring the alarm bells going off in my head, I nod towards the brown packet. “Gonna tell me what’s in there or do I have to guess?”
Dropping the envelope with a thud on the desk in front of me, he taunts me, “Go ahead and open it. They’re yours. I’ve got plenty more where these came from.”
I reach out to grab the ominous volume and as I flip it open, I say a silent thankful prayer because my hands don’t betray the turmoil that rages inside my head. When its contents confirm my suspicions, I toss the pictures back at Michael and gnarl, “You son of bitch. How did you get those?”
Michael meticulously gathers the photos that landed on the floor and table before returning his gaze to mine. I don’t need an IQ of genius to know he’s getting a kick out my misery. When he finishes carefully displaying the pictures on the desk, Michael sneers, “I saw you two leaving the gala together. I thought I recognized her, but wasn’t sure, so I hired someone to follow you. You know, I wouldn’t want my little brother getting into trouble.”
“Cut the crap,” I hiss. “Why are you showing these to me now?”
He eyeballs me and chooses taunting instead of answering my question, “Bet she forgot to tell you about her family, huh? You didn’t know she was a Russo before you fucked her, did you?”
I fume. “Leave Jessie out of this. I know who Jessie is and won’t hold her father’s sins against her. I understand that better than anyone, so drop it. If you had anything against her family, you wouldn’t be talking to me.”
“Maybe I’m just looking out for my little bro,” he chuckles.
Shuffling the snapshots showing me and Jessie in various compromising positions over the last couple of months, I shred them. Throwing the pieces in the trash can, I lash out, “Know what? We’re done here. You’re done. Get the hell out of my office.”
“Not so fast. For some reason I don’t get, Dad’s insisting you take part in his next campaign. He babbled something about your reputation as a law professor, but I spaced out,” he shrugs. “Anyway, I told you I’ve got more of these pictures and your dean will receive a selection of the best shots. You know, the steamier ones,” he holds out a fragment showing my head buried between Jessie’s legs. “If you don’t go back home with me, you’ll lose your fancy university job and your precious Jessie will have her cute ass kicked out of the program.”
I snatch the fragment from his fingers and throw it in the trash with the rest. “Home, you say? I am home. Dad’s living in another century if he thinks anybody gives a damn who I fuck,” I bluff.
“So why keep it a secret?”
Shit! He got me there.
Running my fingers through my hair, I rub my neck and buy some time as I weigh the pros and cons of the situation.
Michael’s never been a patient man. He snaps, “That shouldn’t be so hard to grasp, being a genius like you and all. Need me to spell it out for you? You’ve got no options, bro. Start packing.”
I make up my mind and he won’t be happy to hear it. My turn to smirk, “You’re quite right for once. It’s a no-brainer. I’m surprised you didn’t get it. I won’t help Dad or the rest of your family, swindle or hurt people. No matter how low you stoop, I just won’t.” I raise a hand to stop him from disputing my point. “That’s a big fat no. As for the leverage you think you have, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what happens to my job, but try to harm Jessie in any way and I’ll bring you and Dad down.”
Michael’s face turns a
shen. “You wouldn’t dare go to the police. If you had anything on the family, you would’ve done that years ago.”
“Would I? I don’t know. Maybe Dad taught me a thing or two, after all. For instance, how to play dead and lure your enemies to safety. You won’t know until it’s too late.”
Michael seems to buy into my bluff as he fidgets. Although it’s true I’d go to the police if he acts on his threat, I don’t have enough evidence against my family that would warrant a conviction. Still, I’d make a lot of waves with the things I could tell the police about the Santucci’s dealings, which might even get some of them arrested, pending investigation.
Michael’s having trouble believing I would do it, since he knows that might stain mom’s legacy as well. I’m aware of that possibility, but I’m willing to pay to see. Her foundation never had connections to the Santucci’s dirty schemes, something she made sure of while she was alive. Her ironclad testament ensured it remained that way after she passed. Although the foundation could get some heat if criminal charges were to be brought against my father, his political career would be dead after a scandal of such proportions. I know it and so does Michael.
“I guess I underestimated little Nicky’s bite. Dad’s gonna be so disappointed in you,” a shrug accompanies his sarcastic remark, as Michael raises his hands in mock defeat.
“Bet you can’t wait to give him the good news.”
“Hey, my work here’s done. I came, I tried to make you see reason, you failed. Not my fault what happens next.”
With that not-so-veiled last threat, Michael leaves the office and I sink on the chair. When he wants something, Michael can get as obstinate as a dog with a bone. I don’t believe I won this war. I’ve just defeated him in a skirmish. I decide to get rid of the photos. Even shredded, they’re potentially harmful. I rescue them from the trash can, putting them back in the envelope. I’ll burn them in the fireplace when I get home.